


Impulse

by ShinyMilotics



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Femslash, Lesbian Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, Strap-Ons, Toys, mercymaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyMilotics/pseuds/ShinyMilotics
Summary: Angela clutched a fist at her side. She was a mouse, cornered by the cat. “Why are you here?” she asked, narrowing her eyes just a little.Widowmaker tilted her head towards her, the shadow of a smile on her lips. “I had a feeling you may have been lonely."





	

**Author's Note:**

> involves the use of a strap-on dildo, so if that's not your thing...well, y'know. also, a panty harness for a strap-on is a thing. trust me, i've done the research. 
> 
> anyway, here's some more mercymaker smut for your reading pleasure. enjoy m'dears

Angela sighed, forcing her eyes to run over the last of the words on the page. Her eyes were straining, by now. There were times when she wondered why she worked so much. And the answer was usually obvious — because she loves to help people. But when she was this tired, this stressed, and still having sizable work to go over, it admittedly took some reminding.

Once finished with the page she was on, she brought her glass to her lips, taking a long sip of the red wine.

She hardly ever allowed herself to drink. Her work required her to be almost always ready to provide services that could hardly be carried out while not perfectly sober. So, she saved the vice for nights like this. When she was worn out, and alone.

When she put her glass back down, it was empty. She only needed to ponder for a second before getting up from her chair and making her way towards the small kitchen to pour herself some more.

As she opened up the fridge, she was only mildly startled by the fragmented sound of a window opening and closing, and of footsteps on the carpet.

“Drinking all by yourself, _docteur?”_ asked a velvety, accented voice coming from the room Angela had just been in. “How very unlike you.”

Angela tensed, wine bottle in hand. It wasn’t the first time Widowmaker had paid her a little visit in the middle of the night. But it was the first time she did so here, in Angela’s own apartment, where she’d thought she was safe and in private. She made her way back to her room, her steps strained by slight anxiety and just a small tinge of fear.

“And you would know what is like me and what isn’t?”

Widowmaker grinned. “I know more about you than you think, _chérie.”_

Angela placed the wine on the table, eyes on Widowmaker. The sight of her, as usual, stole her breath away. She had it all — the purple catsuit, the visors, the rifle resting on her shoulders. She looked just as ready to kill as ever.

“How did you find me?” asked Angela, her voice tense. She presumed that there was no need to follow up with “no one outside of Overwatch is supposed to know about this place”.

“As I said” Widowmaker purred, making slow strides in Angela’s direction. “I know more about you than you think.”

Without a word, Widowmaker casually put down her Widow’s Kiss next to the bed as she made her way to the reading table. Then, keeping her eyes on Angela, she picked up the wine bottle and glass, pulling the cork with her teeth. And Angela watched, frozen, as the woman expertly poured a good amount into the glass.

_“Salut, docteur.”_

She brought the glass to her lips, taking a hefty sip, letting the liquid stay in her mouth just long enough for her to savor it. When she brought the glass down, there was just a hint of burgundy still wetting her lips. Angela suppressed a gasp at the sight.

“Hmm…Rich, hearty,” Widowmaker mused, twirling the glass in her hand. “It is good wine.”

Angela clutched a fist at her side. She was a mouse, cornered by the cat. “Why are you here?” she asked, narrowing her eyes just a little.

Widowmaker tilted her head towards her, the shadow of a smile on her lips. “I had a feeling you may have been lonely,” she said, only the smallest tinge of playfulness to her voice.

Angela frowned. “So you weren’t sent here then.”

_“Non.”_

That made her pause for a moment. She may have spent a good portion of her waking time daydreaming about Widowmaker coming into her place in the middle of the night, but the reality of it was an infinite times more puzzling. More dangerous.

“Then why?” she asked again.

“Why?” Widowmaker echoed. “Because I wanted to see you.” She brought the glass to her lips again, taking a long swig of the wine. Then with that same hand, she caught Angela’s wrist, pushed her against the white wall behind them, and kissed her.

Angela’s head spun, and not just because of the alcohol already in her system. Her lips enclosed instinctively around those cold ones, tasting in them the bitterness of the wine, and the indescribable flavor of Widowmaker.

Widowmaker’s free hand held Angela’s other wrist against the wall, effectively pinning her to it. And Angela sighed into her mouth, starting to get drunk on something else altogether — of relinquishing control to the woman holding her hostage.

 _Hostage_ , she thought to herself. _Is a willing hostage still a hostage?_

Widowmaker’s tongue pushed between her lips, and Angela willingly parted them, the way she always had. The grip of the cold hands around her wrists strengthened, and she was pushed harder against the wall. The increase in control made her moan into Widowmaker’s mouth.

Widowmaker then pulled away as if on command, pleased with the clear, wet line that forms between her and Angela’s lips. “You taste delightful, _docteur_. I may just have to eat you up.”

“So that’s what you came here for,” Angela said.  
  
“I am hunting, _chérie._ And you are my prey tonight.”

Angela gasped when a hand lunged for her throat, holding it hard enough to bruise. Widowmaker pulled her from the wall, spun her around and pushed her unto the messy white sheets of the bed.

Her lips ensnared Angela’s again, hard and biting. And Angela let her, submitting her lips and wrapping her legs around the waist straddling her. Widowmaker gripped the sheets with her fingers, using that for leverage as she ground her body against Angela’s. She felt _heat;_ a searing heat deep within her core that she knew could only be quelled by Angela. And it made her sick, because she wasn’t supposed to feel it. Wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

But she felt Angela. And that was something she could hold on to.

She released Angela’s lips, moving down to part the collar of her white coat. Why Angela wore the damn thing while at home, she had no idea. Her cold lips touched the softness of Angela’s neck, and the doctor tensed, goosebumps covering her skin.

Widowmaker kept her lips there as her hands pulled the top of the coat from Angela’s shoulders, pleased to find that underneath it was a grey cotton t-shirt and black leggings. That’d be easy enough to strip her out of.

But before getting to that, she took her sweet time savoring Angela’s neck, pressing on it kiss after kiss, running her tongue through its skin, and sometimes biting and sucking. Angela writhed beneath her, nails scratching at her back. Widowmaker liked that. Liked it when the doctor was so entranced she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

She pulled away then, leaning on her knees as she pulled the shirt up and off of Angela’s body. A smirk colored her lips when she saw the lovely red bra that held Angela’s plump breasts. She ran the tip of her finger down the middle of Angela’s chest. “My, what a naughty doctor you are. Do you always wear this sort of thing when you are working?” she teased, marveling at how the woman beneath her quivered.

Angela ignored the question, biting her lips. Her eyes searched for Widowmaker’s, pleading.

“Sit up, _chérie,”_ Widowmaker commanded. Angela eagerly obeyed, sitting so that the woman could reach behind her back and undo the clasp of her bra. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as her upper body became bare for Widowmaker to see. And somehow, the fact that they worked for organizations at war with each other only added to the ache she felt in her groin.

Angela gasped when Widowmaker’s hands cupped her breasts. Their coldness, combined with the chill night air, made her nipples harden embarrassingly fast. More goosebumps covered her body as she drew in a sharp breath, letting Widowmaker touch her as she pleased.

“Mm… _magnifique,”_ Widowmaker purred, slender fingers rolling over Angela’s lovely pink nipples. The rush of exhilaration running through her body was truly unrivaled. It was similar to the thrill of sniping a target, but longer, more drawn out, and far more satisfying.

Angela breathed heavily underneath her, the occasional little moan escaping her lips. She needed more, needed to find some sort of release for all the energy she’d had pent up inside her for so long. She wanted Widowmaker to unravel her.

But she didn’t need to say anything, because a mere second later, Widowmaker’s mouth was on her breast. She gasped as lips enclosed around her nipple, a tongue flicked over it possessively. Her hand came up to hold Widowmaker there by the back of her ponytail, a silent plea for more.

When she felt Widowmaker capture the nipple between her teeth, she moaned, a spark of pleasure coursing through her veins and spreading towards her entire body. _“Yes,”_ she whined, back arching into Widowmaker’s mouth.

Widowmaker lost herself in her task, shutting her eyes and letting her lips and tongue work at Angela’s breasts. Every little reaction she received in return was like precious gold. She didn’t know where this need for Angela had come from from — a need to have her, consume her. It was inexplicable, but as with anything in her new life, she didn’t need an explanation. She needed only one thing: to find that which made her feel alive.

Angela’s moans and whines filled her ears like they were the loveliest music. Widowmaker reveled in it, and in the way the doctor’s hands clutched at her.

“You make such beautiful sounds, _chérie,”_ she said, squeezing at Angela’s breasts with both hands. Then, she let her fingertip draw a languid line down Angela’s abdomen, reveling in how the muscles tensed underneath. And Angela whined, looking up at her with desperate, pleading eyes.

She tensed even more when Widowmaker’s fingers because to tease between her thighs over the fabric of her leggings. “I wonder…” Widowmaker mused, applying just enough pressure to the touch to tease without giving too much, “…If I will find you wet for me underneath this.”

Angela felt the words right in her core, and fought the blush that threatened to form on her face. She watched as Widowmaker hooked her fingers into the elastic of her leggings, and pulled them down with a wicked grin on her face. She bent her knees to help Widowmaker strip her, leaving her only in her underwear.

Widowmaker’s lips smoothed into a thin line, her eyes intense, their golden hue somehow appearing brighter than usual. Angela’s breath got caught in her throat when Widowmaker crawled between her legs and leaned down, touching her cheek to the inside of her thigh.

She moved slowly, letting her hands travel through Angela’s soft skin, exploring, _feeling_ every inch of it. It was as uncharacteristic of Widowmaker as an action could be. Talon’s coldblooded assassin seemed incapable of grasping the concept of emotion, yet here she was, touching her face to the skin of Angela’s legs in a way that could almost be considered _loving_.

And she could’ve stayed like that forever. Could’ve forgotten Talon, her missions, Overwatch, the world. Could’ve forgotten it all and just relished the place she was in, even if she couldn’t understand the pleasure she derived from it.

But Angela’s pleading whine snapped her out of her haze.

“Please,” her voice said, her eyes only half lidded as she stared down at the woman between her legs. Widowmaker chuckled for a moment.

“Please what, _chérie?”_ she coaxed, knowing perfectly well what Angela craved, but wanting, needing to hear her say it anyway.

Angela writhed, grabbing the sheets beneath her in angry fistfuls. “I… _Scheiße—"_ she stuttered, the frustration starting between her legs and radiating throughout her body driving her mad.

“Touch me. _God,_ please touch me.”

Widowmaker had to suppress a groan when she felt the words hitting her in a place where it ached. And her response to them was automatic — she didn’t think, didn’t consider anything, just leaned down and buried her face between Angela’s legs, pressing her lips to that searing heat that so eagerly awaited her.

The sound that left Angela’s lips then was melodic, Widowmaker thought, like something intended to bring pleasure to a receiving ear. She wrapped her arms around Angela’s quivering hips, moving her tongue in languid, vertical lines through Angela’s sex. The taste was something she couldn’t explain, but there was an intoxicating familiarness to it. She tasted like _Angela_ , and it was more addicting than any drug could ever be.

So she applied herself, holding Angela in place and moving her face whenever necessary; touching, tasting, feeling for where Angela was most responsive. For what motions could elicit the prettiest sounds from her. The entirety of it was electrifying, and Widowmaker could get absolutely drunk off of it.

Beneath her, Angela squirmed, eyes alternating between being shut tight in pleasure and looking down to observe the insanity and wonder that was Widowmaker between her legs. It was everything: the sight, the sensation, even the sounds — the wet sounds of tongue and lips against skin — all of it was driving her mad in a way nothing had ever come close to before.

 _“Fuck,”_ she blurted, one of her hands reaching behind her to grab on to a pillow with a grip so strong it made her hand cramp up. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

Every profanity leaving her mouth was precious to Widowmaker, urging her on and making her increase the intensity of her movements, applying more pressure with her tongue and more suction with her lips.

Just as she felt Angela’s body begin to throb; her breaths start to become faster and more shallow, Widowmaker pulled her lips away. She did not want their little affair ending too soon. Not before she got to fuck her.

But the abrupt stop to the movement made Angela whimper, a desperate wail escaping her. “Wh-why did you—“

“Shh,” Widowmaker interrupted. “Don’t worry _chérie._ I’ll give you what you want.”

Before Angela could protest further, Widowmaker sunk two fingers inside her with shocking ease. She was so wet, so desperate, she needed it so badly.

“Ohh, _fuck,”_ Angela whined, her head falling back down to the mattress.

Widowmaker smirked, her gaze shifting down to watch her fingers slowly pump in and out of Angela’s entrance.

She bit her lip hard, not even conscious of the sting that it prompted. Angela was so tight around her fingers, so hot. It was almost too much to bear.

She increased the speed of her movements, pumping her fingers faster, curling them as they went in. She marveled at every little reaction Angela gave her: the fluttering of her eyelids, the fervid moans, the jerking of her hips into the fingers fucking her.

Angela desperately bucked her hips into Widowmaker’s hand, somehow being able to easily match the movements of the fingers that fucked her. The sensation was absolute bliss - and it was only intensified by the glasses of wine she’d had earlier. Sooner than she may have liked, she began to feel that pressure start to build at her core — pressure that increased and threatened to burst at any second if the pleasure continued.

“Yes, yes, oh _god—“_

Widowmaker felt her. She felt her walls begin to constrict and pulsate around her fingers. She bit her lip again, fighting the overwhelming arousal coursing through her veins.

“That’s it, _chérie._ Come apart for me,” she purred, focusing her eyes hard on Angela as her fingers fucked her faster, harder, hit her at just the right spots.

Angela screamed, a piercing sound that made Widowmaker let out a groan of her own. She kept pumping her fingers at a frantic pace as she felt Angela come around her, her vision seeing red as Angela’s body thrashed in the mayhem of her orgasm.  
It took Widowmaker slowly withdrawing her fingers from inside of her for Angela’s hazy mind to come back to reality. As the white faded and her vision came back to her, she nearly moaned again as she saw Widowmaker bring her fingers to her lips, sucking them clean one by one, as if not wanting to waste a single drop of her juices.

The sight alone was able to set the fire in her core alight again, as if she hadn’t had a reality-shattering orgasm just moments prior.

Her heart began to race again as she saw Widowmaker crawl in her direction, lifting those same two fingers to her own lips this time. Angela didn’t have to spare a second thought — she accepted them eagerly, taking them into her mouth and sucking on them like Widowmaker had just done. She had then, only a fleeting thought of how lewd it was, and how the entire situation was so decidedly far-fetched, but so incredibly erotic.

She sat up slowly as she regained movement of her limbs, and didn’t even think before she pulled Widowmaker into a kiss. Their lips locked with sloppy wet sounds, and Angela groaned, tasting herself on Widowmaker’s cool lips.

Then, she was suddenly pushed a way by a hand that pushed her backwards. Angela stared in confusion as Widowmaker slowly stood up from the bed, then eyed the drawers underneath the nightstand. Her heart suddenly began to race, her stomach dropping as she remembered what she kept there.

“Wait, stop that! What are you —“

But Widowmaker didn’t stop. She flashed a smirk in Angela’s direction before opening up the third and final drawer.

And Angela very nearly dropped dead when Widowmaker pulled from it her pair of black harness panties, and the attachable purple dildo that came with it.

“That’s— you— how did—“ the doctor stammered, rendered incapable of speaking coherently.

Widowmaker only maintained her predatory grin as she attached the two pieces in her hands together. “I already told you, _chérie,”_ she began, lifting her eyes to look at Angela again as she finished up.

“I know more about you than you think."

Angela could not find words to place the emotion in her mind then. It was as though she was both surprised and not, that Widowmaker had spied on her thoroughly enough to know where she kept her sex toys hidden. On that thought, she wondered for just a second if the spider had actually seen her use them during one of the many nights she spent by herself. She shook her head, shooing away such thoughts before they could fluster her even more.

And then she looked up to see Widowmaker completely naked save for the toy she had just put on. It took everything in her to remember how to breathe. The woman was a sight, standing there, naked for her eyes and hers alone, staring at her like she was going to devour her whole.

_And she probably would._

“Bend over,” Widowmaker commanded, voice low and resolute. And Angela frantically stumbled on to her hands and knees, obeying like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was strange - she usually hated being ordered around. But there and then, she felt an urgency to fulfill Widowmaker’s will that was beyond her control.

Angela sucked in a heavy breath when she felt two cool hands palm at her derrière. Behind her, Widowmaker groaned, whispering,  _magnifique_. Angela whined, instinctively backing her hips up into the touch. She felt as if her skin was burning, as if the fire would not be put out until Widowmaker provided her with release again.

Widowmaker leaned forward then, bringing her mouth close to Angela’s ear. “You look stunning, _chérie,”_ she whispered, letting her lips brush against the skin. “This is how I like you. On all fours and bent over for me.”

Angela whined, not because Widowmaker’s words wounded her fragile pride, but because the spider was wasting time teasing her, when she was going insane with need.

Widowmaker shifted, holding Angela’s hips in position so that the tip of the toy just hardly brushed against Angela’s dripping entrance. _“Scheiße—“_ Angela cried, the cool touch of the silicone on her searing heat serving no purpose other than adding to her bittersweet torture.

“Hmm? What’s wrong, chérie?” Widowmaker purred, moving her hand down to ever so slightly push the toy against Angela. And Angela looked back at her with desperate eyes - eyes that seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“Do not do this to me,” Angela whined, her voice breathy as her hips continued to move, desperately attempting to feel more of the toy behind her. Widowmaker hummed something inaudible, and then grabbed a fistful of Angela’s blonde hair with her free hand.

“If you want something,” she declared, using that same low, dangerous tone. “You’re going to have to ask.” As the words left her lips, she pulled at the hair in her hand.

Angela gasped, shoving her face into the mattress. She almost couldn’t believe herself - that she was that woman who would let herself be rendered vulnerable and helpless by the enemy, and get off on it.

“Please,” she pleaded quietly, hardly above a whisper. She was far too gone in the depth of her arousal, there was no longer a filter to her words. “Please fuck me.”

Widowmaker groaned. Having Angela naked and bent over before her, begging to be fucked, felt like the one thing she would kill anyone and give up anything for.  
  
She released Angela’s hair, instead running that hand down Angela’s back, allowing her nails to leave deep red marks in their wake. And Angela moaned, biting her lip and contorting her spine as she was marked. _Naughty girl_ , Widowmaker thought, _she likes to be hurt._

And after what seemed like torturous eternity, she moved her hips forward to push the toy inside Angela, its insertion causing a wet sound of flesh against silicone. She took it so easily. She was so wet.

“Oh, fuck,” Angela moaned, and Widowmaker was able to detect the tiny tremors that ran through the doctor’s body as she did. She bit her lips, straining to control herself, fighting the urge to pound Angela hard and fast until she couldn’t anymore.

She remained still a moment, watching Angela move her hips in a back-and-forth motion in front of her. The sight did something to her she never thought she would be able to feel.

“Please,” Angela gasped. “More.”

Widowmaker jerked her hips forward, filling Angela with the entirety of the toy in that hard thrust. “Do you want more?” she pried, coaxing the dirty words to come from the doctor’s mouth. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes!” Angela cried, her voice giving away her increasing desperation. And Widowmaker raised a hand, then proud it back down in a loud slap to Angela’s cheek.

“Mm, god!”

Widowmaker grabbed her hips with both hands then, and began pushing into her, letting the toy delve deep inside of the squirming doctor. She groaned, her breaths turning short and heavy with arousal and physical effort.

“Harder”, Angela breathed, supporting her weight with her hands as she backed into Widowmaker. “Please, harder.”

She almost expected poisonous words to tease her, to tell her what a wanton girl she was. But they never came - Widowmaker was too focused on fucking her, too taken by how intoxicating it all was. So she complied, fucking Angela harder, faster, her hands bruising Angela’s hips in their grip.

“Yes— oh, yes— _god,_ you are good—“

“Louder _mon ange,”_ Widowmaker hissed. “Let me hear how much you like it.” She spanked Angela again, harder this time, as she gave her long, hard thrusts.

“Ah, fuck!” Angela whined, her imminent tears inhibiting her voice. She gripped the sheets hard and shut her eyes tight as Widowmaker fucked her, the pressure at her groin already beginning to build, threatening to burst and flood her entire body.  
  
_“Fuck,_ I’m close.”

Widowmaker was put into a frenzy, blotches of red beginning to cloud her vision - and she couldn’t tell if she was imagining them or not. She leaned forward to grab Angela’s hair again, this time yanking it with enough force to elicit a loud yelp.

“Come on then,” she ordered, thrusting her hips at a frantic pace. “Come for me, Angela.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— _Amélie!”_

Angela came hard, a continuous, loud moan escaping her lips as her vision turned to white, and control of her limbs escaped her. Tremors took over her body, leaving her with her cheek pressed against the mattress and struggling to regain her breath.

Widowmaker exhaled, slowly and carefully withdrawing the soaked toy from inside Angela. With shaking arms, she stood to remove the panties from herself, placing them on the night stand.

She watched Angela for a moment. The woman was a mess — eyes shut tight, hair everywhere, skin glistening with sweat. Widowmaker’s brow furrowed as she replayed the moment of her orgasm in her mind. Angela had cried her former name. The name of the woman she wasn’t, and couldn’t ever be again. And yet, in that moment, nothing could’ve felt more right.

Despite the thoughts plaguing her mind, Widowmaker crawled back in bed, smoothing Angela’s hair out of her face. Angela moved into her arms, burying her face in the valley between her breasts. It seemed like something she’d already done countless times. And, Widowmaker suspected, she probably had. In the past, before she became what she was now.

It felt strange and confusing, but still Widowmaker closed her arms around her tired, sated doctor. She heard an unintelligible mumble coming from the lips against her skin.

_“Quoi?”_

Angela lifted her face, looking at Widowmaker in the eye. “You are leaving now, aren’t you? You got what you wanted, so you are leaving.”

Widowmaker furrowed her brow. Was she? She hadn’t considered that. She hadn’t really considered anything when she decided to pay the doctor a visit.

“I should leave,” she said. It wasn’t an answer, because she didn’t have one. Angela clutched at her arm.

“And if I asked you not to?”

Silence. It went on for almost a full minute.

So Angela insisted, “What if I asked you not to?”

Widowmaker’s lips smoothed into a thin line.

“Then I wouldn’t.”

The words left her lips before she could really think about them. It was decidedly a terrible idea - Talon would no doubt wonder where was. They would come looking for her.

But Angela’s wide smile made her decide that she could worry about it later. So she held on to her, held that too-warm body to her own. She didn’t know what she was doing, only that, for the first time in years, she felt peaceful.

**Author's Note:**

> wew, this one was a ride (pun not intended)
> 
> -
> 
> have a suggestion/request, or are interested in commissioning me? shoot me an email at shinycommissions@gmail.com ♡


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